


Just One

by Kaylaisbored



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Drug Use, M/M, Pain, Separation, as well as smut, probably fluff later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaylaisbored/pseuds/Kaylaisbored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock never knew how much he needed John, how much he craved his presence, until he was gone. Follow as he crumbles down to who he was before he met his doctor, nothing more than a shell of a man</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One

I cant sleep. -SH

Me neither. JW  
What's up? JW

Brain won't shut up and im sitting outside smoking. -SH  
You said you didn't like the smell of it in the flat. -SH

Sherlock! You shouldn't be smoking full stop! JW  
You said you quit. JW

Sorry. -SH

You're not sorry Sherlock. You'll do it again. JW

I know. -SH

Why won't your brain shut up? What are you thinking about? JW

Everything. -SH  
And its just one of those nights. -SH

I kind of get that. It's probably a lot quieter than yours, but my brain won't shut up either. JW  
What are you thinking about? -SH

Everything. JW  
Mainly you. JW

How much longer will you be away? -SH

A week at most. JW

I miss you. -SH

I know. Can I call? JW

Of course. -SH

He answered on the first ring, sitting out on the steps to 221 Baker Street, dressed in his pajamas and a dressing gown. There was no hello or a formal greeting, just his low tone breaking the static. “I miss you.”

Johns light laugh was what returned, making Sherlock smile just a bit as he stared at his cigarette embers. “I miss you too Sherlock. I’d come home sooner but Harry just got back from rehab and mum is all worried…” He knew that Sherlock didn't quite understand the feeling and it was like talking to a wall sometimes, but it was better than the tension that filled the speaker.

The day that John had left, Sherlock had yelled at him, calling him a worthless git before the door slammed. Ever since John’s mother had informed him of Harry’s return, he had been tense but Sherlock was of no help. Lestrade didn't have a case for him and nothing in his inbox was of any interest, as well as the whole "cold turkey" deal. 

"Sherlock?" John asked quietly, having not heard him even breath. "You still there?"

"Of course.....got lost in thought." He mumbled, smashing his cigarette into the cement and getting to his feet. "You have been on my mind since you left. " Though he would never admit it, he hated that all he could think about was John when his doctor wasn't around. It was like his mind would cool off when he was there, his thoughts were more organized. Instead of the morphine and cocaine, Sherlock was addicted to John. 

“You too...Im trying to focus on my family but all I seem to think about is what you would be saying, where you would be...all that stuff. Its like you’re supposed to be here.” The doctor said quietly, the sound of springs groaning came through the phone as he shifted, probably into a laying down position. 

“Do you want me there? I can be there by tonight, go to the service with you tomorrow.” Sherlock rushed, already jumping to his feet and looking around his room for what he could pack before a light laugh interrupted his searching. 

“I dunno Sherlock. My family suffering a….a loss this big is enough, they don't need me coming out of the closet as well.” John laughed, the flicker of pain and grief still in his tone, voice catching on ‘loss’. 

“Oh.”

“I mean, if you come as just my friend then it might be fine. Just show up to the service tomorrow at eight. The cemetery near my house.” He offered, wishing he could have Sherlock here as his boyfriend and share a room with him and just….cry into his shoulder.

“Ill be there.” Sherlock said before hanging up, throwing open the doors to his closet. He normally just tore through the small room, throwing on whatever he found, even if it was too small. As long as he could move in it and it was comfortable, Sherlock deemed it worthy. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had gone out to the shops for something to wear. Clothing just seemed to….collect and grow over time with his cases. Shirts taken from scenes to analyze, never finding their ways back to the owner out of his own laziness. 

Sometimes the more expensive items like suits and his scarfs were gifts from Mycroft, appearing in a box on his kitchen table when he came home. Despite the price tag, Sherlock would just throw them into the closet along with his disguises and pajamas. The only real clothing that he took as much care of as possible was his coat and usual blue scarf, hung by the door and nowhere else. 

John, however, was very much different. From his ventures into his room when John was out, Sherlock was annoyed by the sheer organization of his clothes. Though his own were a mess, he knew where each item was at any second. The blogger seemed to just place similar things in drawers, so very normal of him. His military days was reflected in the folds of his shirts and pants, precise and clean, just like his personality.

Ping!  
Goodbye to you too love. -JW

Sherlock snorted a laugh and his lip quirked up into a smile at the text. 

I’ll be there at eight and will stay in a hotel nearby, keeping up the friend disguise. -SH

Ping!  
No you don't have to. Just stay at the house with me, i'll be going home the day after so if we share a room it shouldn't be too bad. -JW

Are you sure? -SH

Yes. Mum wouldn’t allow you to stay away either. Friend of mine is a friend of the family apparently. -JW

See you then. -SH

Goodnight Sherlock. I can’t wait to see you. -JW

\---

As promised, Sherlock showed up at the cemetery at eight o’clock sharp. Dressed in one of his nicer suits, all black with a white shirt and black tie. His usual coat was over his arm, the day surprisingly warm and bright for a very mournful day. 

Keeping to himself, Sherlock stood in the back of the crowd for the service, staying out of the way and keeping deductions for himself. He had never been a religious man so as the preacher began to bless John’s fathers soul, Sherlock decided to begin deducing the group before him. 

Everyone so far seemed very straight edge and easily pegged, falling under categories that varied only slightly. However, the woman who stood off to the side, eyes locked on the glossy wooden casket, captured his interest. Her short black hair fell just to her shoulders, brown eyes not having the hint of tears despite the strong gaze they held. 

Mistress his mind provided just as he saw John making his way towards him, people wandering around the grave now, the service obviously over.

“Im sorry for your loss..again.” Sherlock said, a small smile on his lips but it falling quickly.

“Thanks.” John muttered, his hands in his pockets and body tense, trying to be the strong soldier for his family. “I just can't wait to get home.”

“We could leave tonight if you want.” Sherlock offered, making John shake his head. 

“No no...I promised mum I would stay till tomorrow and then Harry is moving back in.” He said, eyes going back to the casket. Hesitantly, Sherlock lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder, something he thought might be comforting. 

John smiled at the attempt and leaned into his slender hand, glancing up at him. "Thank you." He murmured, the hint of a smile still on his face. 

"Oh Johnny. Is this the friend you told me about?" An older, soft voice broke through their moment. Sherlock pulled his hand back from John and returned it to his pocket, feeling the key to 221B inside. 

"Yes mum. Sherlock, this is my mother. Mum, this is my....friend, Sherlock Holmes."

Putting on the face that he had perfected, Sherlock faked a smile and held out his hand, shaking hers lightly. "It's nice to meet you Mrs.Watson, even though I wish the circumstances were different."

She smiled softly in return and thanked him for coming, told him that any friend of johns is to stay at the house with them, and walked off to go thank someone else. 

"Told you. " John said with a cocky tone, giving one last look at the grave before turning on his heel. "Now come on, before my sister gets over here. "

\---

They rode in the car Sherlock had taken there back to John's childhood home, a small two story house on the outside of town. Inside the car, Sherlock placed a comforting hand on his knee and sneaked a kiss against his temple. 

Unlike the cemetery, John's home was quiet and empty, the only sound was a distant dog barking. 

"Oh thank god." John breathed at the sight of the desolate house, sinking down into one edge of the couch, exhausted. Sherlock joined him on the soft fabric, trying his best not to deduce the living room. 

Well worn furniture, showing they have lived here a while. 

Polished leather chair close to window, marked book still sitting on the arm. Must have been-

"Jesus Christ Sherlock I can hear you think." He laughed and turned to rest his head on his shoulder, a shuddering breath. "You know," he whispered," I haven't let myself cry since I got here....."

"And you are strong for that. You are a soldier, you don't show pain unless you are dying. " Sherlock replied, snaking an arm around his shoulders, careful of his injured one as always. 

John just nodded wordlessly and curled against Sherlock even more, letting down his walls that he had put in place for his family. He knew that out of everyone, Sherlock would probably be the one to judge him. However John couldn't be more wrong.

When John had the occasional nightmare, Sherlock never commented on it first or turned him away, welcoming his blogger into his bed at any hour of the night. Even if Sherlock was in the middle of an experiment or composing, he would drop it all to make sure John was okay. 

Just like all those times, Sherlock stayed silent but kissed John’s forehead, keeping his lips against his skin. He took in a deep breath, smelling John’s favorite cologne and the hint of mud. Tipping his head ever so slightly downward, Sherlock let his lips finally meet John’s own, as soft as the couch they were sitting on. 

The kiss contrasted their first in nearly every way possible. Because Sherlock never did anything by the book and refused to be normal, he threw the tradition ‘quick peck’ out the window. He grabbed John after a case by his jacket and smashed his lips down onto John’s, not caring if he wanted it or not. The thought had been fogging his brain for far too long and he just needed to get it out.

“Will you sneak into my room tonight?” John whispered against his lips, voice trembling ever so slightly, something only Sherlock could pick up. “I feel like a bloody teenager asking you that.” 

“Of course John….I always will.” Sherlock smiled, pulling his flatmate back in close to his lips for another feathery kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for taking time to read this! I plan on updating about every week or so, maybe quicker if there is an audience for it. Let me know what you think, I love getting your thoughts. For now, Kaylaisbored


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